Just a Man
by Kezi101
Summary: Sherlock never fathomed that he would ever meet someone of his intelligence, let alone have her completely capture his attention; however, is Lillian Anderson all that she claims to be? Will this be one mystery that he wont be able to crack? Will those pesky things called feelings actually have an affect on The Work? Is he, in fact, just a man underneath it all? Sherlock-OC
1. This is Just the Beginning

**So this is... one of my first stories. I have written a couple others before, but took them down because I wasn't liking them. This one, I am enjoying and I actually have a firm idea on how its going to go. I'm still looking for a Beta, so all mistakes are mine. Keep me posted on what you think of it, and if you think it is worth continuing. My writing may need a little work, but practice makes perfect! **

**-Kezi**

**Chapter 1-** This is just the beginning

"NO! I completely and utterly refuse."

"Sherlock, it's not healthy to have never done it."

"Damn my health!"

"Now, now, is that any way to talk to a friend that is helping you?"

"Help me?! He's trying to torture me!"

"You know, most people like vacations."

"You know very well by now that I am not most people."

"Yes, because most people don't parade around town in a sheet."

Mycroft and John were sitting in 221 Baker's street trying to convince a sulking Sherlock to go on vacation, a task that was proving to be a difficult feat.

"I had to get some fresh air to think. It's not my fault that people were walking outside." Sherlock defended.

"No, but it is your fault that they all had to witness you being too lazy to put any clothes on," injected Mycroft with a sigh.

"I wasn't being lazy! I was just-"

"Please, just both of you, be quiet." John almost shouted, "You already had this argument after the palace incident. Sherlock, you are going on a vacation weather you like it or not-"

"Not."

"Because the country air will be good for you and you will be able to give that marvelous brain of yours a break." He continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"Flattery will get you no where." Sherlock sulked.

"I was hoping it really wouldn't have had to come to this…" Mycroft trailed off. Sherlock's eyes snapped towards his brother's.

"You wouldn't dare." Sherlock said in a dangerous tone and fear in his eyes as his brother nodded at his assistant, who was continuously typing away at her phone.

"Oh dear brother, you know I would." He said right as the door burst open letting in about ten bulky men in black with ropes, a gag and some tranquilizer if needed. They tied Sherlock up, gagged him and carried him to the helicopter waiting outside with a greater amount of difficulty than expected giving the dark haired man's almost scrawny stature. All the while, John was sipping his tea and ignoring his friend's pleas for help. Once Sherlock was practically chained to the seat of the helicopter (how it found room to land, no one would ever know) Mycroft looked to the former soldier and gestured to the door.

"Shall we?"

* * *

_Dr. Anderson,_

_ I am speaking on behalf of Mycroft Holmes who is in need of your help with a case that he cannot solve. It is imperative that our usual detective does not know about it. It is of utmost importance that the case be solved as soon as possible and the criminal captured. I have sent a PDF of the details._

_ Mr. Anderson_

_P.S. This is merely a professional work-related letter and I am still not talking to you._

**_Dear brother,_**

**_ By writing that little note at the end you have officially talked to me. My you must really like this "psychopath" (although your descriptions make me think more of a high-functioning sociopath) of yours for you to still be mad at me. The only thing I did was put the pieces you gave me together and come out with a result. What ever you do, please maintain a somewhat pleasurable relationship with your wife. She is the only person I can have a moderately decent conversation with at the family holiday dinners that I am (unfortunately) required to attend to._**

**_Your ever loving sister_**

**_P.S. Have you washed your hair at all, or does it still have that gross greasy look to it? It makes you look Asian in certain lights._**

_My sarcastic sister,_

_How many times do I have to tell you that I in no way, shape or form, have anything but hatred towards that man, and, I, will say it again AM NOT GAY. Also, please don't pretend to have sisterly feelings towards me, it sickens us both you smart-arse. _

_Your all-knowing brother_

_ P.S. WOULD YOU SHUT UP ABOUT MY HAIR!_

* * *

Sherlock was completely and totally furious with his brother. Lestrade had an important case to be solved and he didn't consult Sherlock because Mycroft insisted on a vacation. Sherlock strongly believed that the major reason his brother had more or less kidnapped him was because of the case he had refused to solve. Now he had to rush to the crime scene to hopefully capture the criminal in time. Sherlock was almost at the crime scene when he heard voices; more importantly, a voice that he didn't recognize.

"And how can you possibly be certain that the local pool will help us?" Sergeant Donovan asked; a sneer in her voice.

As Sherlock entered the room unnoticed, he saw a woman whom he had never seen before. She was about five-foot, five inches, had curly dark hair, held back in a low ponytail, swimmer, American, non-smoker, probably hasn't slept in a few nights… or maybe even insomniac. She was standing over the newest victim; a woman who had been stabbed in the stomach.

"I was getting to that Sally, now please be quiet." said the stranger with a sigh. "I swear, the police force gets more incompetent every year by hiring people like you. Alright, I'll spell it out for you. This woman here is around the age of twenty five and a swimmer. She is fit, but not overly, indicating that she either doesn't have that much time or just is too lazy to really work out. I say the former because of her high-stress, high paying (now former) job, just look at what she is wearing. Designer clothes that fit her perfectly and all from the same brand, perfume that only rich morons buy and freshly manicured nails; the type of manicure that she has usually goes for around 75 pounds. She is a personal assistant, to someone of high importance no doubt. Just look at her hair. Perfectly wound up and has a pencil tucked in. It is not for fashion because there is a hair band that keeps its form, so it must be there for convenience, so she can quickly grab it when needed. Furthermore, the giant bags under her eyes indicate stress, so she must have a boss from hell who makes her do everything for her-"

"Hold on. How do you know that her so-called boss is female?" Interrupted Donovan again.

"She obviously doesn't care for fashion that much, or her looks. She is playing a part. People who wear designer clothes and have expensive manicures don't swim as a sport. They are usually too worried about what the chlorine will do to their hair, skin and nails; therefore, her style and clothes are picked out for her and obviously only a woman would take the time to make sure that their assistant is always looking the part."

"Alright, but how can you tell that she is a swimmer?"

"As I said before, she is toned, but not overly. You can see that her arms and legs are the most toned, but if you look closely, her back and abdominal are also in moderate shape. She doesn't have much free time so she wouldn't want to make an effort of toning each muscle individually, so what ever she does must tone the above accordingly. Now, what sport works on the arms, legs, abs and back? Swimming, she is a swimmer. Also, I've seen her at the pool when I go swimming." _So I was right_ Sherlock thought. No surprise there.

"Couldn't you just tell us that from the beginning instead of showing off?" Lestrade complained.

"I could've, but that was more fun." The American said with a smirk. She continued. "By the way her hair looks, she had just left the pool in a hurry, unable to fully wash out the chlorine, but enough that it doesn't smell unless you know what you're looking for, and was on her way to work. We need to know when she left so we can figure out how long ago exactly she was killed. Her body is still warm, so the killer must not have gotten far. And can you please tell that person in the corner to stop acting like a creeper and just step out of the shadows? I prefer everyone to be in the light when I speak to them."

It was only then that Sherlock realized she was talking about him and had probably noticed him the second he walked into the room.

"Sherlock! I thought you were on vacation. Why are you here?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes, yes, hello, hello." The newcomer said dismissively. "It would be nice if we stayed on topic here. I would know more if someone would give me her purse; this is the third time I've asked for it. Where is it?"

"There was no purse." Lestrade said.

"No purse?" she asked in a distant voice, as if she was thinking hard about something.

"No and if you had just-" He never got to finish his sentence because the mystery woman was already rushing away. Lestrade let out an annoyed sigh.

"I told you that she was worse than our freak, but you didn't listen." Commented Anderson from the side, whom had been surprisingly quiet during the whole discussion. Usually when Sherlock is pointing out evidence, he interrupts his ever other word.

"Would anyone mind telling me who that was just now?" Sherlock asked.

"That would be Dr. Lillian Anderson. She is the most accomplished detective in the United States and is here to solve a case so that you could continue with your holiday. I should have known that Mycroft and John wouldn't have been able to keep you away for long. Speaking of which, where is your little friend?"

"Tied to a chair hanging from a balcony, but that's not important. Did you say Anderson? Is she at all related to-"

"Yes." Anderson interrupted. "She is my little sister. Now anymore questions, or should we see if we can't catch up to the little twit?"

* * *

By the time Sherlock had found _Lillian _(he hated that woman already), she seamed to be already almost done with the case. She was at St. Barts. Of all the places she could have gone, she had to go where _Sherlock _worked, in _his_ room no less! When she asked Lesterade where she could analyze some… "samples", he had the audacity to offer _Sherlock's_ workspace. _No one is supposed to go in there unless I say they can!_ _I'm the only consulting detective around here and no one, especially a girl, is going to but in._

"Have you figured out that all the murdered are connected by-"

"Their accessories, yes. That part was so glaringly obvious that even my brother picked up on it." She interrupted without looking up from her- HIS scope. Sherlock tried again.

"And that-"

"The killer is just a normal man, yes."

"And that-"

"They are all connected to the death of his wife, yes. Every time he saw a woman with an accessory that she had worn, somewhere in his mind, it connected to them having stolen it from her dead body. Because she was a woman of fashion, there are unfortunately lots of the same, or very similar pieces around, plus she mostly got her accessories from one company. With each kill, an accessory is taken back to her grave. The next part was easy. The man was smart enough to not keep the items of the people he killed in his home, incase he was ever suspected, so he brought them to his late wife's grave; an endearing but stupid move. More people are likely to wonder about a disturbed grave than woman's accessories in a man's house. Anyways, all we had to do was look for either upturned dirt and/or accessories next to or on the grave. I also figured out where the killer lives, his name and what he does for a living, or did because by now the police already have him."

"How-"

"Did I finish solving the case thirty minuets after the last kill? Because I am amazing. Any more questions? If not, please leave." I thought for a moment.

"Not possible. People never go _that_ mad when loved ones die." She sighed, still not looking up from her work.

"Sometimes they do, especially when they are convinced that it is their fault and believe themselves to be a murderer. In this particular case, that was exactly what happened."

"How do you know that he believed to have killed her?"

"Because of the way she died."  
"And let me guess, you figured out that too."

"I didn't have to. She had died last week, her death was in the newspaper. She was cooking and her husband surprised her. She tripped and fell on her knife, hence the reason all of his victims were stabbed with a kitchen knife. Now I'm going to ask you kindly one last time to _please_ leave me alone."

"No. This is my workplace, you are using my equipment, you are stealing my job, and I see no reason why you still have to use it when the case is already solved."

"Wrong!" Lillian exclaimed loudly, finally looking up from the scope and glaring at Sherlock. "This is a public hospital, I am using the hospital's equipment, I was asked to come because their top detective wasn't available and I happened to be in town. I am using the _hospital's_ equipment to find out more about Kevin, or the killer. If you aren't going to leave, then the least you can do is _stop talking_." She said turning back to her work.

"Why do you need to keep investigating him? The case is over." Sherlock asked.

" Because otherwise I would get bored too quickly. Anymore questions?"

"Yes, one more in fact, what are you finding out?" She sighed and looked back up. She seamed to be a little less annoyed than before. Lillian obviously enjoyed talking about her work.

"I am finding the gene that makes his susceptible to going mad and what may trigger it. I am then going to find out his heritage from as far back as ten generations and what genetic advantages and disadvantages he has."

"Ahh a geneticist. Not a bad profession, but I personally prefer chemistry."

"I don't see why. A chemist quickly runs out of things to do because once you know the reaction of something, it will never change unless you add something new. With genetics, every gene is different, and there are millions of people out there so you never run out of anything to do, and if you do happen to run out of people, or are just looking for a change, you can always study plant genes. Carrots are a lot more interesting than you would expect, and don't even get me started on grapevines." She said this with a shine in her eye.

"But doesn't always working with genes get a little tedious?"

"Yes, that is why I have a minor in neuroscience and solve mysteries for fun. Serial killers are always my favorite, with them, there is always something to look forward to and they are challenging until they make a mistake."

"Now where have I heard that before?" Said a voice from the door.

"You escaped rather slowly. The flight over takes about an hour and twelve minuets and assuming that you came straight here after checking the flat and not finding me, you left about forty-three minuets after I did." Sherlock stated.

"Yes, I would have been quicker if I hadn't been hanging twenty stories up from a balcony three stories above me, but we'll talk about that later-"

"But I hate talking about insignificant things from the past" His flat mate whined.

"You mean you hate talking about something that you've done that was wrong." John

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Later." He turned to Lillian. "Sorry for my rudeness, my name is John Watson. And you are?" He asked raising a hand.

"Lillian Anderson, but everyone just calls me Lilly. By, the way, when you see the Molly girl again, can you tell her thank you for showing me where all the equipment was? She ran off before I was able to do it in person." She said taking off her gloves and shaking John's hand then started cleaning up.

"Oh, so you try to make me leave so you can continue analyzing Kevin's saliva, but when John comes in you happily drop everything and shake his hand." Sherlock said bitterly, then internally shook his head; where had that come from?

"Yes I tried to make you leave because you are annoying, whiny and too cocky for your own good. I had already finished analyzing a _hair_ and was just about to leave when you barged in. And it's just because I like him better than you, Sherlock Holmes."

"Ahh, so you do know who I am." Sherlock exclaimed, choosing to ignore the barb at the end.

"Yes, my brother never stops complaining about you. What ever you two do together, please try to keep it confidential, I happen to like his wife." John burst out laughing. Sherlock frowned.

"Tell your brother that I'm flattered… no that's a lie. Tell him I'm married to my work and have no intention of ever tying my self down to anyone." Sherlock said stiffly. Lilly giggled.

"I'll be sure to tell him that." She said grabbing her coat and purse. "It was a pleasure to meet you John Watson, and thank you Mr. Holmes for so graciously allowing me to use your workspace for my experiment."

"It was a pleasure meeting you Lilly." John said in reply.

"Don't mention it, and call me Sherlock." Sherlock.

"Sherlock it is then." She replied, and left, closing the door softly behind her.

"Well she's a nice girl." John said after a few moments.

"Woman."

"I'm sorry?"

"I could only have a conversation like that with a woman, not a girl." It was then that Sherlock realized that during the conversation, he had somehow lost the majority of the malice that he had felt towards her in the beginning. It dawned on him that the conversation he had with Lilly was the first intellectual conversation that he had had in a long time.


	2. Dinner for Three Please?

**So, here is the second chapter and I'm sorry that it is a bit short, I will shoot for longer chapters in the future. I will try to update as much as possible; however, there will be times when life will get in the way and I will be unable to update for a while. Anyways, keep me posted on what you think, and ****_constructive_**** criticism is always appreciated.**

**-Kezi**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, and any similarities to any stories are not intentional. **

**Chapter 2-** Dinner for Three Please

Sherlock was working on the tongues that he had kept in the fridge (John again complained about body parts where the food is, and Sherlock just replied that "our tongues will eventually be eating the food" and that he didn't understand the problem) when he heard laughter coming from outside just before John opened the door.

"I thought we had an agreement that any time you have a date that you want to bring home, you were to call me first so I could leave." Sherlock said without looking up from his microscope.

"Oh, Lills and I arennn't on a daaate. I just ran into her in the stooore and invvvited her for tea." John replied. At the name Lilly, Sherlock's head shot up before he was aware of the action.

"And he lives!" John exclaimed, laughing some more. "I was beggginning to believe that you had died like that and wasss just tallkin' as a reflex. Hmmm, that didn't make much senssse did it?" John giggled some more.

"Your flat mate confessed to having gone to the pub before the store, so he is a little drunk. I walked him home to make sure that he didn't hurt himself." Lilly told Sherlock with a smile on her face at John's antics.

"You callin' me drunk missy?" John said, poking an accusing finger on Lilly's forehead.

"No, just a bit tipsy." Lilly laughed, brushing his finger away.

"Well that, I sure as hell am." John slurred, plopping down in his chair. Lilly moved to the kitchen, found the kettle and some tea and started brewing John a cup.

"You're American!" John exclaimed loudly, sitting up abruptly. Sherlock jumped and bumped his microscope, losing the spot on the tongue that he had been looking at.

"John, please refrain from being so loud." Sherlock sighed.

"You're not supposssed to know how to make tea." John continued, laughing.

"Since we are reverting back to stereotypes, do you want me to make you some dinner? It will probably be one of best you've had in a while." Lilly stated, sticking her tongue out, her eyes full of humor.

"Oi! There is nothin' wrong with my cooking."

"I never said that there was anything wrong with it. I just implied that there is probably nothing good about it." Lilly laughed. John 'harrumphed' and fell back into his chair, too drunk to keep the conversation going.

"Would you mind if I made a little something?" Lilly asked, turning to Sherlock. "It would probably be better if John had a little food in his belly along with all that alcohol."

"Go ahead." Sherlock grunted. Lilly nodded and turned to her groceries.

"Would you like something too?" She asked.

"I don't eat when I'm trying to concentrate." Sherlock replied without looking up, still trying to find the same spot, even if he now had to start the whole experiment over again.

"Alright, but I'll make a little extra, just in case. I'm not sure what you're trying to concentrate on; that experiment was bust after you bumped it." Sherlock frowned, but otherwise did nothing in response to Lilly's comment. She shrugged and turned to the stove and started cooking. She located everything she would need (rinsing some of them out because of questionable substances that she saw) before turning on the stove. Being in an unfamiliar kitchen had its drawbacks, so it would be best to have everything ready so nothing would burn if she couldn't find something she needed. It wasn't long before the smell of garlic, butter, onions and meat started wafting through the kitchen. John's head snapped up and his eyes gravitated to the kitchen. He had been surprisingly quiet, just content to be inside his own head, even while drunk. He stood up and went to stand beside Lilly.

"Sooo, what are you making?" John asked, looking over her shoulder at the stove.

"Well, I bought meat balls, spaghetti, and tomato sauce at the store along with a few other ingredients, so I'm making spaghetti and meat balls. Is that alright with you? I'm trying to make something as fast as possible because you really need some food in your stomach with the amount of alcohol I am suspecting you drank." She replied, closing the lid on top of the big pot that she was using.

"That smells certainly better than any pasta I've had in a while." Sherlock said with a pointing look at John- payback for making him waste a tongue.

"Heeey! My cooking's s'not that bad." John replied indignantly.

"I didn't say it was, I just said that it's not as good as hers smells."

"Oh piss off. You're just sulky 'cuz you messssed up on another bllllasted experiment."

"It wouldn't have happened if your drunken ass wasn't so loud." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

"How many tiiimes do I have to say it? I'm nnnnot drunk!" John said, getting a little aggravated.

"Now boys, if you can't play nice, you can't play together. Can you show me where the plates, trays and silverware are, because I'm not placing food anywhere near that… _table_." Lilly said, opening and closing cabinets.

"They are… hehehe. Your ass is nice." John giggled.

"Oh for heavens sake!" Sherlock exclaimed, grabbing the dinner dishes.

"Thank you Sherlock." She said, not commenting on the fact that he got out three of each. She served each plate, told John to eat at least half of it, and found a place to sit down.

"Wha fid choo do cho shish pashta?" John asked, his mouth full of food.

"I apologize Lilly, usually he is much better behaved than this." Sherlock said, shaking his head. Lilly laughed.

"Don't worry about it. I consider it a compliment that he doesn't want to pause to chew. And to answer your question John, nothing really. I just cooked the meat balls in a pan with garlic, onions and a few other tasty things. Do you like it?"

"Ish amashing." John replied, nodding his head frantically, just incase he didn't get his point across.

"Glad to hear it." Lilly giggled.

"I swear, only an American wouldn't be insulted by his behavior." Sherlock mumbled to himself. After dinner, Sherlock was repeating his earlier experiment on a different tongue and John was lying back in his chair, rubbing his belly happily.

"I think I should probably get going back to my hotel room to drop off the rest of my groceries." Lilly said after the dishes were put away.

"No! Don't go." John protested. He wasn't slurring anymore because of the meal, but that didn't mean that he was much less intoxicated.

"But I'm going to have to eventually. My cold foods aren't going to last much longer outside of the fridge and I will have to go to bed soon."

"But-but… this Neanderthal of a roommate of mine isn't going to help me with the hang-over I'm going to have in the morning." John pouted.

"So you admit that your drunk." Sherlock commented from his place at the table.

"No, I'm not drunk, but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to have a hang-over in the morning." John insisted, sticking his nose up into the air.

"Now John, I'm sure you of all people know that-"

"Sherlock, what ever you tell him now won't do any help in the future. I would suggest ignoring pointless battles." Lilly interrupted. Sherlock grunted and turned back to his work.

"What if I come by tomorrow morning? Would that be ok?" Lilly asked, turning back to John.

"I guess… but what if I wake up before then?" Pouted John.

"You won't, trust me. See you tomorrow." Lilly waved, grabbed her groceries and left. A couple of minuets passed in silence before it was broken, surprisingly, by Sherlock.

"John, you can't seriously believe that with the amount of alcohol that you consumed that you are not drunk, but will get a hang-over. By saying that, you are completely contra-"

"Tomatoes are purple."

"No, tomatoes are technically not purple, but the Black Prince variety is rather dark and may look like a dark red, but not purple. Back to the matter at hand-"

"Cats go 'woof'" John interrupted again.

"No… 'woof' is the generic sound that was given to dogs. By saying that you are going to have a hang-over in the mor-"

"Lobsters taste like chicken."

"No they don't, otherwise nobody would eat lobsters because chickens are so much cheaper. Now as I was saying-"

"Stars are just fireflies stuck on the roof of outside." John interrupted again.

"Now that doesn't make any sense." Sherlock said, trying to figure out what John was doing.

"The earth revolves around the sun."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"You like Lilly."

"You of all people know that I am married to my wo-"

"Toes are mushrooms."

"John. What are you doing?" Sherlock finally asked.

"I'm trying to see how many pointless arguments you are willing to participate in against a drunk person." John replied evenly.

"Ha! So you admi-"

"Your tongue has turned purple."

"My tongue has wha- John! You made me waste another tongue!"

"_I_ didn't make you do nothin'." And with that, John stood up to go to his room, leaving a furious and flustered Sherlock behind.


	3. The Little Things in Life, Like Space

**AN: I am so sorry that it took so long to get this out. It's not as long as I would like it to be, but at least it's something. I could list of a bunch of excuses explaining why it took so long for me to update, but I don't really think any of you want to hear that. So, without any further ado, here is the next chapter. **

**Chapter 3:** The Little Things in Life, Like Space.

When John got up in the morning, he had a splitting headache. He stumbled downstairs in his robe and walked into the living room.

"Well hello there John. Here is some Asprin, a glass of water, and after you brush your teeth, a light breakfast will be ready." Lilly said with a smile from the kitchen.

"Lilly? Umm, could you remind me on a few fuzzy points from last night?" John asked, still squinting from the light. Lilly nodded.

"Ok, um, how drunk was I last night?"

"Pretty drunk." Lilly giggled.

"Told you so." Sherlock muttered from his table.

"Ok, next question, did I ask you to come here, or did you stay the night?"

"I came back in the morning because you didn't believe that Sherlock would help you with your hang-over."

"Well, morning would be stretching it a bit." Sherlock injected.

"Why? What happened?" John asked, confused.

"Well, after you went up to bed, it wasn't long before Lilly came back. She made the argument that she had never specified what _time_ in the morning she would come, so therefore, her coming here at twelve ten was perfectly sound."

"Why were you here so early? Did something happen?" John asked.

"I got kicked out of the hotel because they didn't like the experiments I was doing." Lilly pouted.

"Why aren't you staying at your brother's place?" John asked. Lilly just looked at him.

"Right. Sorry, didn't really think that one through." John mumbled. "Well, if you need a place to stay, you are welcome to stay here. Mrs. Hudson already puts up with Sherlock's experiments, so I doubt she will mind about yours."

"Oh, no! I can't. It's alright; I'll just find another hotel to stay at. Really, you don't have to worry about me."

"I'm serious! Sherlock never sleeps, and when he does, it's because he falls asleep on his chair, or the couch."

"Really, you don't have to." Lilly said, shaking her head.

"I'm starting to think you're still drunk." Sherlock said. John glared at him.

"How about this," John started, looking back to Lilly. "You cook for us and help us on some of our cases, and in return, we let you stay in our flat where you are welcome to do as many… _harmless_ experiments as you like."

"Well that is all fine and dandy, but what I don't understand is why you are inviting her onto _my_ crime scenes to interfere with _my_ work." Sherlock said pouting.

"Well, she must be bored some of the times, and I know from experience that incredible minds need more than experiments to keep busy. The cases will get done faster and we reduce the chances of a burned down flat considerably." John supplied with a smile.

"John, I appreciate the offer, but-" Lilly started.

"I will be insulted and start thinking that you don't like my company if you decline my offer once more." John said sternly. Lilly sighed.

"Alright, I accept your offer… if Sherlock is ok with it too. I wouldn't want to impose" Lilly said with a smirk. John glared at Sherlock. Sherlock sighed.

"Fine by me, just don't annoy me too much and we will get along fine." And with that, he turned back to his experiment.

"Alright, I guess I agree to your proposal. Where can I set up to do experiments?" Lilly asked.

"Sherlock can share some space on the kitchen…table." John said, pointing to said 'table'.

"And how do you propose we accomplish that?" Sherlock asked sternly.

* * *

"Get your Petri dish off of my side of the table!" Lilly exclaimed for what felt like the millionth time that day.

"I would still have room for my Petri dish if _someone_ hadn't decided that it would be just fine and dandy if the table was split in two with masking tape." Sherlock complained, glaring at a seemingly impartial John who was watching the telly. "Besides, your carrots keep rolling to my side of the table and you don't hear me complaining."

"That's only because you don't have any room to breath, complain about my presence and point out that my carrot is somewhere where you don't want it to be. I will move my carrot when you move your dish." Lilly said, standing with her hands on her hips.

"I will do no such thing; I only had to move my dish because your carrot got in the way, so therefore it should be you who moves their _equipment_."

"Well my carrot wouldn't have moved if you hadn't been complaining so much."

"And pray tell how does my speaking relate to your rolling carrot?" Sherlock demanded, now also with his hands on his hips.

"When you are agitated, and you speak, your limbs tend to flail. Your hand hit the table, thus causing my carrot to move, so if anything, it was you who moved my carrot."

"I wouldn't be agitated if _someone_ wasn't using up over half the table."

"Am not! The table is divided evenly in two. You should remember considering you double checked it to make sure John wasn't 'playing favorites' as you so childishly put it."

"Oh please, you are hogging most of the table and you know it." Sherlock stubbornly insisted.

"I have already mentioned that it's not the case as _you yourself also measured it_. John! You know that the tab-"

"Oh no! I am _not_ getting in the middle of this. You two can behave like children all you want, but leave me out of this. I came up with the idea, it's up to you two to figure it out. Also, could you keep it down just a tad? I'm trying to pay attention to the news." John said.

"The only person behaving like a child is her." Sherlock accused, pointing at Lilly.

"Me? Aren't you the one who is throwing a temper-tantrum because a carrot is on your side of the table? I should be the one upset because you put your germ-infested Petri dish on top of the hair that I was using."

"And I already told you that my Petri dish is on your side of the table because your carrot is on mine. And why do you have both a hair and a carrot? I'm starting to think that you are deliberately trying to take up more room than necessary just to annoy me."

"Yes, obviously that is what I was doing because you are just soooo important. And FYI, I was eating that carrot, not experimenting with it."

"Ha! So I was right! You are deliberately taking up more space than necessary!" Sherlock exclaimed, pointing a finger at his rival.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I am starting to believe that you just have selective hearing and ignore everything that you don't deem to be important. Some detective you are." Lilly jibed, jabbing a finger at his chest.

"Selective hearing?" Sherlock asked, taking a step closer. "I have one of the greatest minds of my generation-"

"Modest much?" Lilly snuck in.

"And you seriously think that, as a detective who studies the power of observation, I would have selective hearing? A good detective knows that every single syllable of every sentence should be crucially examined and explained so nothing gets by. Neither a whisper of a lie, nor a tremor of deceit should ever be able to pass by unseen from a good detective."

At this point, John had given up watching the news in favor of observing the scene unfolding before him. The two of them were almost nose to nose (probably as close as they were going to get, considering how bloody tall Sherlock is), practically screaming at each other, faces flushed as one continued to try to out-wit the other.

"Furthermore," Sherlock continued, "for you not only to accuse me of committing such an act, but to insult my abilities as a detective is not only rude, but out of place. I do understand that you are the guest here, as I am one of the hosts; however, I will not hesitate to throw you out of the house should you, again, act like I am the intruder, while you, for some reason, are entitled to be here. This is England, not America, so I will over look it this once. I doubt someone of your intelligence needs to be told this twice." There was a pause as no one spoke. John had even ceased to breathe. Then Lilly took a deep breath.

"You are right." She said. Sherlock blinked, confused that she has so openly and graciously accepted her error in judgment. "Yes, everything you said was valid, and I do sincerely apologize for my behavior. I forgot my place for the moment, and behaved rudely and insultingly, so I apologize. I am the guest here, you are letting me use your workspace, and I am nothing but grateful for that. If you wish, I could pack up my things and find a place to work elsewhere so you would not feel so crowded." Lilly said, with her head slightly bowed in shame.

"Now that would just be rude of me." Sherlock smirked and turned back to his work. Lilly smiled a small smile and picked up her carrot, taking a bite out of it. Sherlock took his Petri dish, being careful to leave the hair behind, and put it on his side of the table.

"John, you might want to stop sitting there staring into space right about now. The media is actually reporting something useful. They have another mysterious disappearance." Lilly chimed a few moments later. John snapped his attention back to the screen.

"I wonder why they haven't called yet." John wondered out loud. Just as he finished speaking, the phone rang.

"Speak of the devil." Lilly murmured as Sherlock answered the phone.

"Lestrade?" Sherlock said by way of greeting. There was a short pause, then, "I'm on my way." He snapped the phone shut and practically danced into the hallway to grab his coat. Lilly and John smiled at his antics.

"Well?" Sherlock asked with a smile. "Are you two coming?"

**AN: Comments? Questions? Concerns? Also, if I haven't mentioned before, I apologize if the characters are a bit OOC, this is still my first real fanfic, so I am trying my best (yay me!). **


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